As the sun is setting, And the flags are flying at half mast, Shrouding the tears from the twelve who can cry no longer, I have to ask, Which pill did he take? Was it red? Was it blue?

Any pill, Any pill at all, To cover his pain, Until his pain became rage, Mixed with chemically induced mania, psychosis,* Stuffed inside one man, Until it shot out of him, In the form of bullets.

And pill pushers reaped the profits.While the victims paid the price.

And so I must ask again, Which pill did he take? Was it red? Was it blue?

But in the media there is silence….
And more silence…
And more silence…

Until these drugs, Create murders once more.

And again, After those
Shootings…

The sun will begin to set, And the flags will be lowered to half mast, Shrouding the tears from the those who can cry no longer, And again, I will have to ask, Which pill did they take? And when will they tell us the truth?

I wrote this poem because I wanted to ask the question about James Holmes, the batman shooter, that the media is not asking. Why is no one questioning

I had a shocking experience this weekend after I ate exactly seven "Pringles Light Sour Cream and Onion" chips. After waking up in the middle of the night with severe cramps, diarrhea and extreme nauseous, I decided to research why I felt so horrible. I discovered that the chips I had eaten contained Olestra.

I never expected that a substance that used to have a warning label: "...Olestra may cause abdominal cramping and loose stools. Olestra inhibits the absorption of some vitamins and other nutrients..." A substance that the FDA "...received more than 20,000 such reports—more than for any other food additive in history" * would still be legal.

What would you give,
To control that blade of grass,
Time in your day,
Your salaries,
Your freedom,
Your life?*
Denver police, state patrol, federal police,**
Please step back, step aside,
Step in and join us,
Together let's put people first,
And let the corporations serve the people or be voted out of existence.I wrote this poem in response to the struggle for the lawn that occurred again

(Occupy Oakland, Occupy Denver and other occupations in solidarity with Occupy Wall Street have been forcibly evicted by riot police. To make sure that these citizens do not peaceably gather on the grass again in Denver, thousands of dollars are being spent to have police and state patrol protect the grass. After seeing the around 25 state patrollers occupying the capitol lawn and a bunch of Denver police occupy the city park after 11pm, wasting our tax money and impeding on our rights to peaceable assemble, I wrote this poem.)

I wanted to thank you,
For protecting the weak,
For standing for the rights,
Of those who could so easily be trampled,
For securing what cannot speak for itself.

Thank you for protecting the grass,
For it cannot speak for itself.

I suppose we, the people, do not need your protection,
Because we have mouths to speak
And hearts to control our future of peace
A future of solidarity
A future that we can all have hope in.

So thanks again for protecting the grass,
And maybe next year you will stand with us,
In a future of solidarity.